


What Reality is This?

by Engineer104, hailqiqi, Rueitae



Series: Farming Christmas Crackers [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Gen, Moving On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 19:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/pseuds/Engineer104, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailqiqi/pseuds/hailqiqi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rueitae/pseuds/Rueitae
Summary: Allura has forever to be bored with her new role as cosmic caretaker of realities, so what's a little interference in a friend's bleak future to pass the time?(So says Bob, anyway.)





	What Reality is This?

**Author's Note:**

> You all thought this was finished. Not quite. Allura had to get the idea from somewhere. Prequel to Lance's Christmas Carol wakeup-call.
> 
> (This Fic Brought to you by Rueitae)

Waking up not-dead had been a nice surprise, suddenly having the knowledge of infinite realities... not so much.

Allura has forever, and it doesn’t take long comparatively for her to get used to her new role as caretaker of all realities. The information is limitless and her mind and spirit has the capacity for it all.

She’s bored.

Her realm takes the form of her old room on the Castle, a large screen across from the bed she sits on. She’s thought it all up for maximum comfort, right down to the pink lion sleepwear.

She studies the contents, absentmindedly braiding her hair. “Does Pidge truly sound like that in most realities?”

After a quick check, yes, in seventy-three perfect of realities (oh how she hates how right Slav was) she - or rather _he_ in this case - does.

Allura is grateful for _her_ Pidge. She owes her much more than she had been able to express in life. The passion and drive for Altean technology, especially in their early days provided a sense of normalcy and peace that her people’s legacy would live on in _someone_. She’s thankful to Shiro for sharing leadership, for Keith and his understanding, and for Hunk who reunited her with her people. She misses her Paladins - her family - more with every reality she peeks into, particularly since there aren’t many in which she knows them.

She especially misses Lance.

He’d given her a thread of hope for the future and she’d clung to it desperately. He was a comfort and shoulder to cry on; she felt wanted for being herself, not just Princess of Altea and leader of the Voltron Coalition.

Had she given him the same? Had she soothed his insecurity? A place deep in her gut clenches at the doubt and she clings to her pillow a little tighter. In their short time together it seemed he just wanted to be together. _That’s_ what it had taken for him to be sure of himself? It doesn’t seem right.

She needed him for those two months; had he needed her?

When she looks into her own reality she isn’t as sure as she’d like to be. Lance isn’t doing what she expects of him, away from the spotlight and cultivating juniberries in a near constant state of melancholy. For a while she’s proud. He’s a better person from when they first met, no longer obnoxious and overbearing but choosing to show his more heartfelt self.

So why does he seem so sad? What does Lance need?

She has the rest of eternity to dwell on it. If she’s to remain sane, she will have to desensitize and look at things objectively, like any other mission.

Today is not that day.

“He must have a happy ending at least,” she hopes. But the further into the future she delves, the harder it becomes to watch how Lance handles her death. _His_ death leaves her wholly stricken and heartbroken. A complete accident? A life ended too short and unfulfilled, not even for the good of anyone else? None of their shared family to speak of their time in space together at his funeral?

Allura fervently flips through as many realities as she can, comprehending their entirety faster than they can flash on her imagined monitor. She needs to see something happier for Lance. Guilt twists in her heart as a pattern emerges.

Lance is happiest when he’s around and wanted by others. He loves being the center of attention, and not for the selfish reasons Allura’s led herself to believe. He just likes people. He genuinely wants to know about everyone’s day. He wants to see others smile (and will absolutely make a fool of himself to do it). He’s a pilot of some kind in nearly every reality.

Her Lance isn’t getting enough of it with his family on a farm.

“I don’t understand,” she tells a perfectly happy future Lance as he joins Keith in an airshow squadron. “You matured. You should be happy.”

“Knowledge is power, and power means quasenbullion credits for the bonus round! Need a brain to pick?”

Allura huffs in annoyance, and with a flick of her finger throws Bob across the room.

He poofs right back, hovering in his chair to the side of her bed.

“That’s a sour face if I ever saw one,” Bob says with a roll of his eyes. “I haven’t seen you this upset since you first arrived here. Where’s that winning smile when you helped me with the heroes from Centra-7.”

“I am not in need of your assistance, Bob, not right now.” She fixes her eyes upon the monitor, now back to her home reality’s future. “I am in the middle of something very important.”

Bob floats in between her and the screen, leaning towards her with an elbow resting comfortably on an armrest. “Are you sure about that? You do _not_ look like you’re having fun at _all_. That’s what Norlax is around for.”

Allura wills herself to flip around, back to her unwelcome visitor (not for the first time either). The screen moves with her. She doesn’t need to move herself physically here, not when just thinking for something makes it appear for her.

“This isn’t the kind of work I would consider fun,” she insists. There must be a way to help Lance avoid a dismal future, if she can only find a constant between all the realities.

Bob’s face lowers upside down in front of hers. “Is it a people problem? I’m good with people.”

Allura huffs, a too familiar scowl forming on her face. “I wouldn’t say that, exactly.”

“That’s not fair!” Bob flips rightside up and waves his hands around in indignation. “I helped the gang from Planet Zedoran go from enemies to friends! You saw it!” He waggles his eyebrows. “I’ll bet you ten credits they’ll go friends to lovers next.” He pops beside her once again and pats her shoulder. “Your performance for that was spectacular by the way, mmmmh,” he kisses his knuckles with flair, relishing in the memory, “like well aged nunvil.”

“You’re welcome,” Allura says with finality. “Now will you leave me be? This is truly important to me.”

“Your team is in trouble?” he guesses.

Allura is about to retort, but pauses as she realizes he guesses correctly. His tone is tinged with sympathy she’s become accustomed to from him.  “Something like that. I’m worried for Lance’s future.”

“Loverboy,” Bob nods in recognition. “How’s the kid doing these days?”

She sighs in defeat. Frustrating he may be, Bob is still a guest, and without his guidance she’d have lost herself to madness by now. In a blink she’s standing and presentable in her favorite dress, hair loose and free.

She sighs and clasps her hands together. “What are you really doing here, Bob? Did you want to see your favorite reality again?”

Bob leans on an elbow, palm raised towards her, and crosses his legs casually. “Your thoughtfulness is touching as always.” He sighs dramatically. “As much as I enjoy watching Voltron as actual cats, I’m here for business, but I can’t see why I can’t help out a friend in need while I’m at it.”

Her mouth twitches. Bob has revealed himself to be an odd but kind mentor since her arrival to this place. Never would she have imagined willingly assisting him on his game show, but from her new position she sees how he tests heroes throughout the universe where as a contestant she never could. He encourages her to use her powers, testing their limits to show heroes what may or may not become of them.

Although his helpfulness one minute and infuriating goofiness the next is still something she isn’t over. “Hero business or show business?” she asks in resignation.

“Not mutually exclusive,” he tsks, wagging a finger, “as you can attest to yourself. It happens to do with your Paladins, actually. I just got my ratings back from your episode of Garfle Warfle Snick - and it is a _hit_! The networks want more.”

Only years of diplomatic training forces Allura to shut her gaping jaw.

“What networks? Bob, the show is your test - _no one_ is watching,” she says in exasperation.

Bob zips over and nudges her in the arm. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he teases before hovering leisurely over to the screen where the current reality still plays. “So what do you say, think you can get the gang back together for a sequel? It’d be a great reunion _and_ you can sort out whatever’s making Loverboy upset.”

Allura grits her teeth and crosses her arms. “I do not think so!” she scolds. “Even if I could see them again, I would use the opportunity to ensure their futures are happy, not put them back on your quiznaking game show!” Anger and frustration build under her skin. Her reality’s Lance is doomed to such a poor fate; it churns her stomach that he may have been better off trapped with Bob instead of mourning her.

Mourning. The realization hits hard, and it spears her heart. “I was not able to move on from my past and it blinded me to my personal future happiness,” she breathes in disbelief. “I - Bob - I can’t.” She doesn’t know why she begs as if Bob has these answers, he can’t change anything. (But he does listen.) “I will not let Lance suffer the same fate, it isn’t fair.”

“Aaaaand there’s the answer to the billion credit question,” Bob grimaces. “Weren’t there six Paladins? Last I checked, you’re the only one who died. You all passed the test with flying colors,” he nudges her in the arm, “Lions, colors, flying, get it?” Bob backs away before continuing, “you’re all perfectly capable of helping each other through anything.”

Allura growls and shows Bob Lance’s sparse funeral. “Then why don’t they?”

Bob shrugs. “You’re the one with access to the multiverse.”

Allura grumbles, but he’s right.

She starts from the beginning. She sees Hunk grow to love cooking, Shiro struggling with his degenerative disease, Keith’s parents meeting, and Lance greeting pilots with enthusiastic questions.

Pidge surprises her. Allura knows she loves her family fiercely, but their interactions as Paladins were limited to issues related to saving the universe, so seeing Pidge’s childhood is centered around her family in nearly every aspect catches her off guard. Allura wishes she had paid more attention to Pidge’s interests, not just the technological ones or relating to Voltron.

Her room is full of so many adorable things, but Allura doesn’t know the names of any of them. But she wants to know, and Pidge could have told her. A young Pidge paints her nails and puts her hair up in funky styles for fun. Salty tears reach Allura’s mouth before she realizes she’s crying. That could have been _them_ during their downtime on the Castle. She mourns for the missed opportunities.

Allura feels the pain along with Pidge when she loses her father and brother. It’s like waking up from the cryopods and discovering the fate of her father and her people all over again.

The time at the Galaxy Garrison is enlightening, in more ways than one. Piding fumbles her first interactions with Lance and Hunk, continually brushing them off only to look longingly after them as they walk away.

“Pidge, please,” Lance moans, draping himself over Pidge, who sits at a desk. “Hunk is sick and I need a break. I’ve been studying so hard my brain is going to fall out.”

She stands abruptly, causing Lance to tumble to the floor. “No. I have more important things to do than go to a Valentine’s Day dinner!” She huffs and sits down, back to him. Her cheeks flush a bright red.

“Okay, fine. Do what you want. _I_ am going to enjoy a delicious steak dinner with… someone…” he finishes lamely.

Once the door closes, Pidge slams her book shut, opens a small notepad, and proceeds to write furiously in it, her cheeks not returning to their normal color until she’s finished writing.

“Ooohh...rejection,” Bob winces. “And on the day of love too.”

Allura turns to him, flabbergasted. “‘Day of love’? They have a Sacred Heart Day as well?” It doesn’t surprise her that a day set aside to celebrate love of all kinds was a universal concept, but she’s shaken by the idea of Lance and Pidge spending it together. It tickles at a meaning that goes deeper than teammates and Paladins.

“Lance was always near Pidge in almost everything we did as a team,” Allura realizes as she searches her memory. “I always suspected he liked her - those Olkari earrings were such a specifically thoughtful gift, but I did not realize Pidge felt the same. He promised to follow me anywhere, I assumed I’d been wrong about his feelings for Pidge.” she says, hand clenched near her heart. “The Paladins were my first real friends too. I should have said something. Surely Lance would be happier?”

“That’s the game winning question, isn’t it?” Bob asks. “Would he?”

Allura tightens her gaze. A teledav platform rises from the floor and she takes hold of each pedestal. “It’s better if I show you. Perhaps that will shed some light on this situation.”

“Oh? This will be good.” A bag of popcorn appears in his lap. “I only got half of your team’s story from Bi-Boh-Bi.”

She twists her hands on the pedestals to show him, but then stops. “Bob,” she says blandly, “you literally see into the hearts of heroes. What could you have possibly missed?”

“Just because I can see individual parts doesn’t mean I have the entire performance,” he shrugs. “You want Lance to be happy? Find _everything_ that makes him happy, romance is only a fraction of of his person.”

Allura does want him to be happy, all of them. What is her sacrifice worth if they are not? So she closes her eyes in concentration... and searches. Realities pass by in an instant and Allura sifts through them one by one.

She finds what she is looking for over Bob’s ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s and ‘scandelous!’ at various realities. “They were roommates!” he exclaims as Allura speeds by an older Rizavi and Kinkade walking out of an apartment together. Bob leans in, grinning slyly, “I’ll bet there’s only one bed too.”

“There!” Allura declares in triumph when she finds Lance, ignoring Bob’s observation. “A reality in which they do not find Voltron. Lance becomes a pilot and a teacher!” she exclaims, thrilled. “Perhaps he needs to go back to the Garrison?”

Bob does not look convinced. He leans back comfortably. “Eh. He’s mostly happy I guess, busy at least. He _is_ the most ambitious out of all of you.”

Allura puts a hand on her hip. “He is busy on the farm and he still ends up forgotten.”

“‘Cause he feels insignificant,” Bob says as if it were obvious. “You saw him flinch every time I called him the dumb one. Being a part of Voltron did something for all of you. There’s a far greater purpose in that than just flying a jet or growing flowers.”

“All right. Then what about this one.” Allura shifts the monitor to Lance delivering supplies to alien refugees. “Helping others is a greater purpose!”

Bob nods, examining the reality with scrutiny. “That’s not all he has in this reality.”

Sure enough a young girl jumps out of the ship and into his arms as soon as he sets a crate down, hugging and laughing with her.

Her hearts breaks as she sees most of Lance’s happy realities involve a family of his own. “I can remind him of his purpose. How can I possibly give him a family?”

An older Pidge steps out of the shuttle and scoops the child out of his arms. “You and I have a date with the hyperdrive, Peanut. You can help Daddy hand the supplies out later.”

It clicks. Allura can’t give him a family (and if she’s honest she never was excited about having children of her own)...

But Pidge could.

“Oooh,” Bob perks up. “Have you figured it out?”

“I believe so,” she nods, used to him reading her body language. “At least a catalyst.” The relationship was there it just needed… coaxing.

He waves his arm expectantly, “and the answer is…?”

“A-”

“Like we practiced. Please?” he begs, batting his eyelids.

Allura sighs. “What is, all of the above?” Bob spins for joy as she continues, “I need to keep him in regular contact with the others, rekindle his love for piloting, and get Pidge to do it for me.”

Bob’s grin is wide and excitable. “You’re really going to do something about it?”

“I have to, Bob. I can’t stand to see Lance as he is. He’s _too_ melancholy. He’s lost focus, I owe him too much to let it go on like this.”

“Count me in then!”

He says it so casually that Allura is caught off guard. “I’m sorry, what? You’re saying I actually _can_ help him from here?”

“Allura,” he says in a way that feels as if she’s about to, as Hunk used to say, ‘get truths handed to her’. “You’re a goddess. You have the power over all of realities, _plural_ . If you want to help your boyfriend, you _can_.”

Hope surges in her heart, but it feels more like a knife. “Wouldn’t it be catastrophic to abuse this power like that.”

“Not if you do it _just_ so,” Bob muses, rubbing his chin.

“You are saying there are loopholes?” This is a concept she’s familiar with at least, thanks largely to the combined influence of both her father and Coran.

“Allura, honey, I’ve been doing this cosmic overseer thing for a long time, I know a trick or two; you’ve participated in one,” he assures her. “If you want to do something, there’s _always_ a way; trust me.”

“Then you have an idea?” she presses.

“It’s all in the presentation,” Bob explains, growing more excitable by the moment. “You give loverboy a vision, the more spectacular and emotional the better, say what you want to say and hope it sticks.”

Allura paces, giving her options thought. She wants to remind Lance of his purpose, to lift him up and be hopeful for the future, perhaps even show him what he’s missing on his holiday.

She’s reminded of a reality where a man is visited by ghosts to show him how to care for others (on the same holiday that Earth currently celebrates!), to the benefit of his puppet frog employee.

“I’ve got it!” she says brightly. “There is an Earth ghost story I can model. After four visits surely Lance will understand!”

She plays the reality for Bob and he watches silently, critically (she hopes, she worries the one called Gonzo might be a bad influence on Bob).

“Well,” she asks anxiously, “what do you think?” For the first time since arriving here she feels real hope and joy; she can do something tangible.

A grin grows slowly on Bob’s face. “Allura sweetheart… this is _excellent_.” He sniffles and sheds a single tear. “I’m so proud.”

He teleports into her face. “I volunteer for ghost of Christmas Present. Please,” he begs and bows before her, both sets of hands clasped together, “I have prepared for this moment my _entire_ existence.”

Allura considers the pros and cons. On one hand, Lance is the last person who would appreciate Bob’s presence. On the other hand, he _would_ take notice and listen.

“All right,” she decides. “You’ve been very kind - in your own way,” the intrusive visits, while annoying, forced her to learn her powers, “and have helped me come to terms with my role. I would be pleased to have your assistance.”

“Yes!” Bob cheers, unleashing tons of confetti into the air. Where did that come from?

Bemused, she continues. “I’ll speak to him myself as the ghost of Yet-to-Come. It will be difficult for him to see. I need to find two others —“

Bob throws a brown piece of fabric her way, landing on her head and blocking her sight. “Bob what is this?”

“Your costume!” he proclaims. “You have to keep yourself cloaked; it’s the air of mystery of what might come.”

Allura tries it on. She gives it a good sniff and grimaces. “It’s a bit… stuffy. I’m not sure it’s necessary,” she says while taking it off.

Bob slaps all four hands to his face, as if hit by an unexpected betrayal. “You have to keep yourself hidden! That’s the point of representing an unknown future!”

Allura sighs and puts it back on; the material is heavy, as if burdened with the weight of the future… or past… she can appreciate the symbolism, even if it isn’t to her tastes. “This does not seem like the type of costume I would expect you to keep around.”

“It was prime fashion back in my day! Gotta keep some things of sentimental value.” He winks. “So, any ideas on who you’re going to recruit for this special,” he says as he rubs his hands together.  “Find him a Kaltenecker-wrangler, the kid could use some pointers I think.”

“There are a few possibilities. Would you mind doing a bit of set up for me while I talk to them?” She leans in with a wink, feeling sly. There’s no way Bob would say no to adding some flare in order to get Lance’s attention. “Lance likes the dramatic, he may appreciate it.”

Bob rewards her with misty and soulful eyes. “I’m so glad it was you who became one with the Force.”

Allura blinks, “The what?”

He gives her one of his ridiculously smug grins. “The Force, honey, the quintessence of the universe. We all call it something different.”

Bob poofs out of her realm and just for a moment she relishes in the silence. How she misses the easy chatter with her friends. Bob’s boisterousness is something she will have to get used to, he’s already been kind and patient.

The current reality on display shows Lance alone with Kaltenecker, voicing his latest frustrations and sorrows,

“I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I, girl?” he asks, and receives only a neutral ‘moo’. “You’d be lonely with no one here with you.”

“Hold on, Lance,” she says. “I’ll help you find your purpose.” Her fists clench in resolve. “Even if I am not meant to be a part of it.”

Then she would make sure she was not the bulk of his future, for his sake.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for validating my Allura and Bob friendship headcanons.


End file.
